Mob Scene
by JaganshiKenshin
Summary: Hiei's having a bad night, complete with old acquaintances, the Yakuza, and disembodied heads.


Disclaimer: Kenshin does not own the Yuu Yuu Hakusho characters (they are the property of Togashi Yoshihiro et al), and does not make any money from said characters.

What Kenshin **does** own, however, are all the original characters in this work. Any attempt to "borrow" these characters will be met with the katana, or worse.

_Idiot Beloved_ takes place shortly after the Dark Tournament; _Firebird Sweet_ directly follows. For reference, I use a combination of the subtitled YYH anime and the American manga, plus some of the CD dramas.

This particular tale is a one-shot starring Hiei, some yakuza, and a character from _Farewell, Mr. Groovy._

Title: Mob Scene

Author: JaganshiKenshin

Genre: Mystery, Humor

Rating: K+/PG-13

Summary: When Hiei is set upon by the mob, a couple of unwelcome intruders add an extra layer of trouble.

A/N: I have always wanted to see the return of YYH as a series of short one-shots that were real mysteries, solved at the end of the half-hour...and maybe this is Halloween story...

"What's a thug like you doing in a place like this?"

Mob Scene

by

Kenshin

Having been shot, stabbed, poisoned, then dumped off the top of a building not fifteen minutes before, Hiei was quite naturally a step slow, and a bit peevish.

When a rangy Siamese cat came tearing out of the night, yowling at the top of its lungs, Hiei thought his eardrums would burst as well. He turned toward the direction from which he had come, to see what the ruckus was about.

The cat leapt straight at him, clung on, then clambered from his leg to his shoulders, its needle-sharp claws stabbing through his jeans.

Hiei took several eyeblinks to react: "Ow."

Moments later, Futoi Junior cannonballed past. Hiei was tired, but not too tired to clothesline Junior off his feet. He spoke above the caterwauling in his ear. "You weren't planning to make a meal of this cat, were you?"

Junior's eyes bulged. "Naw," he said, picking himself up off the street. "But _that_ was."

The creature which barreled after Futoi Junior looked not only hungry, but capable of swallowing him whole at a gulp.

It was an oni, but unlike the mild-mannered Joruju Saotome, Koenma's big blue assistant, this one was red. Breathing steam. With horns. Tusks. And a wild mane of black hair.

Except most of the oni was missing. This was just the head. A head the size of a compact car.

Before Hiei could react, it struck him-and went right _through_ him, without impact. Then it vanished.

He looked around, dazed. Had the poison caused hallucinations? No sign of the oni's head. At this witching hour, the street was deserted except for himself and the cat.

_Oh. And this guy._

Futoi Junior was cowering behind a trash can. Hiei grabbed his collar and hauled him out.

Shifty-eyed, always out for the easy scam, Futoi nervously gnawed the stub of a dead cigar. His family name meant 'thick.' Though he was _youkai,_ he could pass for human. Shorter than Hiei, stocky and hairy with underslung jaw like a cartoon bulldog, this low-level creep was usually glued to a barstool at his favorite waterfront hangout, the Corpse and Bucket.

"What are you doing here?" Hiei asked.

Futoi's eyes rolled. "Runnin' from that thing, Chief."

"What _was_ 'that thing?' And don't call me Chief."

"Right, Boss. An' as to the nature of that, I got no idea."

"Then here's one. Don't call me anything. Just vanish."

Futoi gave Hiei a wounded look. "It ain't as though I possessed that perticular ability, Chief."

Among other things, Futoi Junior was a stool pigeon. Years ago, he had incorrectly informed Hiei that Kurama had kidnaped Yukina. Whereupon Hiei had gone after Kurama with a sword.

The fact that Futoi was still alive was a testament to the fact that Hiei had never told Kurama who sold him the info. _Sometimes,_ Hiei thought, _I can be too forgiving._

Stabbing pains in his shoulder reminded Hiei that the Siamese cat still clung to him, cursing.

If not for the claws shredding his windbreaker, and the caterwauling, Hiei would scarcely have known it was there; it weighed next to nothing. Kuwabara's cat Eikichi was smaller, but twice as heavy.

He tried to pull the cat off. The needle-claws dug deeper. He was no Kuwabara but he didn't hate cats. "It's your funeral," he muttered. The cat told him what to do with himself.

Hiei realized he was hungry. Being shot, stabbed, poisoned, and chucked off the roof by the Yakuza will do that to a man.

He wanted to go home. He couldn't go home. Junior might follow. And the cat. Knowing Shayla Kidd, she might decide to keep them both as pets.

Better keep moving. Maybe work out the poison. He was resistant to poison, but not on top of being shot, stabbed, and dumped off a roof.

Then there was the small matter of the Chomo clan. How could five or six mere humans get the better of him?

The Yakuza, often referred to as the Japanese 'Mafia,' are not exactly the equivalent of American mobsters. For one thing, they like to portray themselves as noble, chivalrous outcasts. While it is true that the Yakuza have been instrumental in providing disaster relief in certain cases, Hiei, a genuine outcast, saw them as pretentious thugs adept at media spin.

Small potatoes on the Tokyo scene, the Chomo clan was not known for drugs or human trafficking, but discreet fingers in gambling pies. So their reaction to Hiei (who was merely serving their boss, Takeuchi, a summons) remained baffling.

"I need to clear my mind," Hiei said, to no one in particular. "That disembodied head got to me."

"You an' me both, Boss." Futoi kept pace with him.

"Don't call me Boss." Hiei looked for a ramen stand.

As Hiei had feared, the cat nailed itself to his shoulder, while Futoi Junior heeled like a well-trained dog.

"Go away," he said to them both.

Neither obeyed.

He turned south, gratified to see an open ramen stand halfway down the block. Hiei sat, then placed his order. The cat's yodeling immediately doubled in volume. He reached into his wallet-

-and found it empty of cash. Were the Yakuza so desperate that they had rolled him, too?

He glanced at what was in Futoi Junior's hairy, scratched-up fist. "I notice you're holding some money."

"Yeah." Futoi brightened. "Lucky, ain't it."

"I notice it's the exact amount I had on me."

"Now ain't that odd. Life is sure fulla coincidences."

"Right down to that torn-off corner on that bill."

"Heh heh."

Hiei said to the counterman, "He's paying."

He downed a bowl of ramen, ordered another. The food made him feel a touch better. He lingered over a second bowl, as far as was possible with the cat howling in his ear.

After slurping the last strand of slippery noodle and gulping down the hot brine, Hiei spotted a shred of pork remaining in the bowl. Red at both ends, gray in the middle, it was a thing of beauty. He wanted it. But, sick of the cat's yowling, he snagged the pork shred between thumb and forefinger and angled it toward the creature.

The cat snapped it up, puncturing Hiei in the process.

Hiei stared gloomily at the welling crimson bead on his thumb. "I probably have rabies now."

The cat told him what to do with himself.

"Nahh," soothed Futoi. "Guy such as you. You're much too tough to get rabies."

Hiei squinted at the cat. It didn't look like a rabid animal. It had those startling blue eyes seen on Siamese, with dove-colored fur, and darker mole-gray mask and stockings. Its ears appeared to have been chewed up some. Probably by Futoi.

Hiei rose. He left the ramen stand and trudged down the street. Futoi followed; the cat did not relinquish Hiei's shoulder. Three-quarters of the way to the next block was a small park, and a bench just within its confines. He sat.

Futoi sat next to him.

"Go away," Hiei said.

"Sure, Boss. An' seein' as how you're kinda all in, what about I take that noisy feline off your hands?"

The cat hissed and ululated. Hiei was forced to raise his voice. "I don't think so. You're wearing a hungry look. Even though you just inhaled three bowls of ramen."

Futoi grimaced. "Just a suggestion, Boss."

Hiei put his head in his hands. The Siamese helpfully dug its claws into his shoulders. He straightened, thinking. How did any of this make sense?

Koenma had given him a small, seemingly insignificant assignment: serve Takeuchi with a summons.

It would not normally fall to Hiei to act as a mere process server. But Kurama pleaded battle fatigue. Kuwabara was juggling a job and classes. Urameshi had to wash his hair.

With the cat on his shoulder and Futoi at his side, Hiei pondered the scene in the Chomo clan's office.

Takeuchi, a fussy little man with thinning hair, was very polite. He nodded while Hiei presented the summons. He then had his underlings serve Hiei sake. Hating sake, not realizing it had been poisoned, Hiei had taken a sip for protocol's demands.

Taking advantage of the fast-acting poison's effect, Takeuchi had shot him, stabbed him with a sushi knife, dragged him to the roof and dumped him off.

This was unusual.

Even though he had never personally met with any member of the Chomo clan, they would know Hiei by reputation and afford him a healthy respect.

Moreover, the mob employed lawyers these days. A man in Takeuchi's position would simply accept the summons, serve non-poisoned sake, then meet with legal counsel.

Both cat and stool pigeon seemed to be waiting for Hiei to make the next move. "Let's take a stroll." Stretching stiff legs, Hiei passed the ramen stand and headed to the cross street, back the way he came.

But then he paused.

Futoi gnawed his cigar. "Hey, Boss, why'd we stop here?"

"_We._ Now that's amusing."

"Whaddaya mean?"

"I was just studying those scratches on your hands when one or two points about this adventure struck me. They prove a little troubling, and I had a thought."

"A thought." Futoi shot a nervous glance down the avenue. "Brainy guy like you, no surprise there."

"You don't like me."

Futoi put a hand to his chest. "You wound me to the quick."

"And you're a coward."

"No need to be insulting."

"And yet you've stuck to me like a remora on a shark."

"I don't even know what you mean with them big words."

"You haven't let me out of your sight."

"Well," hemmed Futoi, "if that monster thing comes back, I figure you're more'n' a match for it."

"It didn't hurt me, though," Hiei mused. "Passed right through me. Besides, it's not really me you're clinging to."

"Got no idea what you mean by that."

"Shot. Stabbed. Poisoned. Pushed off the roof of a building. Don't you think that was an overreaction?"

Futoi barked out a laugh. "Hey, Boss, it's the Yakuza. They don't think normal like you and me. Who knows?"

"After all, I was just serving a summons."

"A summons."

"You know what those are. You get served with enough of them. Takeuchi's wanted for questioning."

"Yeah, from what I hear tell the Yak don't like no questions. On account of it makes them nervous and so forth."

"This was the small matter of a missing person."

"Oh, is that what it was? Hahaha."

The cat had gone quiet.

"And how it is you knew I was in Yakuza headquarters?"

"Ah, well," Futoi wiped his beetling brow. "I just kinda made the assumption."

"Assumption?" Hiei grabbed Futoi by the collar.

"Hey, Boss, what're you-"

"This person has been missing a month." He started walking again, dragging Futoi along. "The family has been searching, using every known means and a few that are not."

"Kinda let go my collar."

"Years ago, you sold me info on Yukina's whereabouts. I almost ended up killing the wrong guy. He almost ended up killing me. I never told Kurama who set me on to him, though I'm sure he'd be very interested."

Futoi turned as pale as tofu. "B-boss, you wouldn't-"

"Wouldn't I?" Hiei raised an eyebrow. "I'm officially in a bad mood now. So kind of just cooperate."

"No, Chief, really, I-"

"We're going back to the scene of the crime. "

"We?"

"All three of us."

The cat again dug its claws into Hiei's shoulder, almost like a signal. Hiei studied the feline on his shoulder. "Funny thing about Siamese cats. That yodeling they do. Sometimes it's almost as though they can talk."

"Hehhehheh. What an imagination."

"Lots of dialects in the demon plane."

"I wouldn't know nothin' about that."

"And look at the ears on that cat. How they've got notches. I thought the ears were just chewed-on. But they're not."

"Oh, ain't they? They look chewed-on to me."

"Those are the earmarks of a very highly-placed _youkai_ clan. In fact, of royal blood. So this missing person would be the equivalent of a baron."

"Ya don't say."

"This is about a certain Baron Kenryou with a rather adventurous offspring, Kenwa. Koenma didn't brief me all that thoroughly. He never does. And I made the mistake of assuming this Kenwa would look like me, or even you. Human in form."

"I never heard no such thing." Futoi tried to pull away.

Hiei tightened his grip. "Now, suppose this Kenwa wants a little fun. He likes to prowl Tokyo, and he likes to gamble. His _youki_ is insignificant enough that he can pass through the little rifts that naturally occur in the barrier between worlds. And he has a perfect disguise. No one will bat an eye at him.

"Only this time he runs afoul of the mob. Throws a few dice too many and can't pay up."

"See, that's why it don't do to mess with the Yakuza."

"You keep saying that. Yet you were hanging around their headquarters."

"Was I?"

"Kenwa got more adventure than he bargained for. The Baron would have paid the debt, but Takeuchi saw an opportunity for ransom, with a sky-high payoff."

"I'm confused now, Boss."

"So it's not just a missing-persons case any more. It's now high stakes kidnaping, involving a foreign dignitary. And that would be why Takeuchi panicked when I came on the scene."

"I said before, them Yakuza are crazy."

"I've fed one of Kuwabara's cats. It didn't bite my hand. But then a month is a long time to go without food."

"I don't get what you're gettin' at, Boss."

"Takeuchi's a fussy man, and these old buildings have vermin. He keeps rat poison on hand. Suppose Takeuchi insults the Honorable Kenwa by first offering cat food. Then by the time he thinks of feeding him sushi, Kenwa's aware of the poison lying around-and thinks it might be meant for him."

"Who'd wanna poison a cat?" whimpered Futoi.

"The poor sheltered sap failed to understand he was worth more to Takeuchi alive than dead. Days drag into weeks. Kenwa could safely drink any tap water he managed to coax from a faucet, but doesn't dare touch the food they bring. Takeuchi's a little nervous on that account. If Kenwa dies, Takeuchi's in the kind of trouble a battalion of lawyers can't fix."

The cat mewled plaintively.

"There's a reward for Kenwa's return," Hiei said.

Pale and bug-eyed, Futoi asked, "Reward? Kidnapping? Now you got me all confused-like."

"That's a word you should know: Kidnapping. Reward, too."

Boss, if you're still kind of on the muscle about that wallet thing-"

"Don't call me Boss." Hiei sighed. "Reward, ransom, I get them mixed up. Anybody would. Especially after being shot and stabbed and so on."

"Like I said." Futoi gave a nervous little laugh. "Ya got a great imagination on you."

"Now suppose this hostage, being far more agile than Takeuchi knew, somehow managed to depart from their premises."

"There you go using them big words again."

"I have an idea," said Hiei. "Let's just ask Takeuchi exactly what happened."

"No way." The hairy little stool pigeon dug in his heels like a mule. "Chief, Chief, no, really, I-"

"Why, Mr. Futoi. Are you trying to insinuate that you fear a Yakuza boss more than you fear me? I might be inclined to take that as an insult."

Futoi wrung his hands. "But Chief, you're a nice guy."

"No, I'm not."

"You're SANE."

"I'll concede that point."

"Some of them mob bosses, they're nuts."

"Another point conceded." Hiei maintained an iron grip on Futoi's collar. "But let's get back to this scenario. Supposing the victim's aware of me when I serve that summons. Maybe sees me from a window. Maybe overhears my exchange with Takeuchi. And he picks up, oh, a certain aura. Like I'm a guy who can be trusted by someone in trouble."

"Ain't I in trouble here?" pleaded Futoi.

"And, being agile and slippery, the victim bites his guard, squirms away, and tears off after me, while the mob sends that oni head after _him?_"

"Now, Boss, you really got a outlandish imagination."

"Now suppose a certain someone else caught wind of the situation, skulking around the premises like a rat. The last thing a low-level thug wants is to attract mob attention. So why is he hanging around?"

"I ain't no good with these supposes, Chief."

"The thought of money sang him a siren song. Maybe it even sang a little tune about upping the ante into ransom. So when he saw his chance, that certain someone chased the escapee down. I mistook it for a different kind of hunger."

"You oughta could write a screenplay, Chief."

"One final nail in the coffin."

"Don't go talkin' nails and coffins."

"Kenwa would need a liaison between himself and the mob. Someone to tell him where to go. Some low-level hustler with an ear to the ground and a way of always getting it wrong."

"I dunno who that might be."

"Being weak from hunger, Kenwa's not quite fast enough to escape the rat waiting outside. Those scratches on your hand."

Futoi frantically shoved both hands in his pockets. "Cut myself shaving!"

"Even down to the way his claws dug into me. Half-starved, he lacks his normal sense of balance. And he's been trying to tell me his story. But for some reason, oh, I don't know, maybe having to do with being shot, stabbed, what not, dumped off the roof and then pick-pocketed, I wasn't paying strict attention."

Futoi was sweating pebbles now. "Boss, please."

"I've got questions, Takeuchi's got answers."

"Okay, you win!" Futoi cried out. "So I need a little pocket change. What's wrong with that?"

Hiei sped up, dragging Futoi along. "What's wrong is that the Baron doesn't know if his son is alive or dead."

"Well, he's fine now, right? No harm done, right? I mean, you even fed him."

"For another thing, I'd like to know how the Yakuza happened to get its hands on a disembodied oni head that can still move."

"All right, all right, it went down exactly like you say! Just don't drag me to that Chomo clan guy!"

Hiei stopped. He stood a while, listening to Futoi whimper. Then he sighed. "Maybe not. Neater that way. Less paperwork."

"Boss, you got a heart of gold."

This time the cat told Futoi what to do with himself.

They hadn't gotten all that far from the park. Hiei was still tired. He turned around and went back to the welcoming bench. Then he got out his phone and called Koenma.

"Well, that's it." Hiei flipped the phone shut. "We wait. Koenma sends forces to collect the both of you."

Futoi tugged at his collar. "Both of us, huh."

"No gold in this heart," Hiei assured him.

He ached everywhere. The ramen stand was still open. He gazed upon it with an intensity of longing, but was too weary to get up.

Futoi noticed. He dredged out the remainder of the cash he had stolen from Hiei and waved it. "Look, Boss, there ya go."

"A bribe?"

"No, just a honest citizen returning some found money."

"Keep it. Bring us a couple bowls."

Futoi sprang to his feet and dashed away.

"I'm watching you," Hiei called.

Returning hastily with two bowls of ramen, Futoi gave them both to Hiei. The cat-or rather the Honorable Kenwa-refused to leave Hiei's shoulder. Hiei held the bowl up for him to eat.

Futoi swabbed his brow. "Maybe," he announced, "I'll just go get us a third bowl. And some napkins maybe. Yeah, napkins." He sidled along to the ramen stand.

"You do that." Hiei was too tired to argue. "Futoi," he muttered, as though Kenwa could understand. "You can't hate him. You just can't. Always got an angle, always in over his head."

Between one breath and the next, Futoi had ducked out of sight. The Baron's son looked up, noodles dangling from his mouth, and gave a muffled yowl of protest.

Hiei looked at the street where Futoi had been. "So maybe you manage to give me the slip," Hiei said, under his breath. "Couldn't blame me. After being shot and stabbed and so forth." Hiei paused, not really expecting a reply. "I still wonder about that oni head."

Finished with the noodles, the Baron's son spoke in stilted, heavily-accented Japanese. "That thing? Oh. That just Father's old search engine."

-30-


End file.
